


Vulnerable.

by sixnumbers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Wilson, Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, Male Character of Color, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixnumbers/pseuds/sixnumbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wilson is a man who want to feel safe in another's arms. Steve Rogers, he finds, wants exactly the same. (small edits done 7/11/14, every chapter but 5 is either T or M.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. I'm usually not a notes gal, but here we are.
> 
> This story takes place pre/post-Winter Soldier and is told from Sam Wilson's point of view (through a narrator). It mentions PTSD in all but name, and 'safety' is a word and idea tossed around a lot.
> 
> Marvel characters aren't and never will be mine, I'm just a Cap/Falcon (Capcon?) fangirl with a soft spot for vulnerable men.
> 
> (small edits done 7/11/14.)

Vulnerable is a word Sam Wilson keeps avoiding.

He would never admit, to most people, that losing his best friend (and flying partner) made him feel weak. It left his heart scarred, it left his dreams staticky and his nightmares vivid. For months, he woke up with tears in his eyes or in a cold sweat. You see a man blown right out of the air, parts of him fly downward, and your own life becomes so fragile you can’t function. You wonder why you’re even here, doing this work, shooting at these people. He still asks himself that, though there's no more shooting.

But that’s the thing about the world he lives in. He doesn’t get a chance to be vulnerable, to feel fragile. Not only as a Black man, but as a war veteran. He went out there to protect American freedom, or that’s what they always told him. He doesn’t feel like he did any bit of that. No one, it feels like, is concerned about his psyche. As soon as he got home, they wanted to brush him under the rug like all the other Iraq and Afghanistan vets. From both decades.

In a way, it makes sense Sam Wilson counsels. Isn’t it usually the sick who help the sick? Because they know how awful it feels, how crushing it is, to see someone die right in front of you, to have something one day and it's gone in an instant. He helps others in a way he wishes he could be helped. He can’t even help himself sometimes. Talking to other therapists never helped. They don’t understand, do they? Not unless they experienced the same thing. And from what he saw, that wasn’t the case.

On the bright side, the nightmares aren’t so frequent anymore.

But when they show up again, they feel like a ton of bricks, he wakes up shellshocked and shaking. His bed is empty and he’s clawing at something in the dark, as if it’s an enemy he has to fight. That’s he feels the most vulnerable. Unprotected and weak-willed and when he comes back to the normal world, he hates himself. He wanted to be vulnerable, letting his guard down for a change, not hiding himself. He wanted to be honest and open and not so damn terrified.

He tried to use sex as an outlet for it. His process was: what other time are you most open? Someone seeing you naked, stroking yourself, moaning. Letting others inside you in a physical and mental sense. For a brief time, he’d go out to a bar, make small talk with a guy or a girl, and he’d bring them home. They would marvel at his physique, but almost want him to play a role. A strong, buff military type who gives orders and fucks hard. His service always perked eyebrows, women who wanted to play Sargent and Cadet and men who wanted to be commanded to suck cock. Either way, Sam was always on top. With women, well...that was one thing. Sam didn’t expect a comparable body type, nor did he expect the women he met to not enjoy feeling safe to be vulnerable. It was simply the women he found that wanted a temporary high, not an open book. But the men...were a different story. Often, they were evenly matched, sometimes they were taller. But they insisted he top. In the back of his head, he wondered if it was because of his ‘war vet’ or ‘Black man’ status that placed him there. Men were intense with their fantasies they pasted onto his body, the way they wanted him to pin them or make them moan “Sir, yes, Sir”. They didn’t understand what that did to him. One man remarked, “You’re too big to bottom, anyway.” Sam never thought of himself as particularly tall.

After that, he gave up barhopping and just stayed at home. He couldn’t even be vulnerable with someone he was intimate with. He knew, in a way, he wasn’t trying hard enough. But it felt like ‘normal’ people would shy away from him if they knew his truth.

__________

Steve Rogers was just as vulnerable as Sam Wilson was. Which, given what he's read, made sense. Under the bulging pecs and biceps was still the same scrawny kid. Sam could tell in his smile, the way he blushed gently talking to a flirtatious girl, how he acted when he met a fan and wouldn't stop playing with his shirt hem. Nervous and shy in a super soldier package. It was arguably...adorable.

And he felt a little...odd...staring at Steve’s chest as he caught his breath after a run (which never took too long) or watched his biceps tense when he casually picked up something a circus strongman would wince at. He didn’t want to tell him that when he was a little flyer, all he wanted to do was work with Captain America, saving the world and punching Nazis. When he got older, he realized that his little daydreams became fantasies of them kissing after a hard battle, Cap’s uniform covered in dirt and particulates of shrapnel. Or, Sam was injured, and Cap took him in his arms, telling him he was alright, he’d keep him as safe as he kept his Commandos. He definitely was not going to include how badly he wanted to strip off that uniform.

The vulnerability of Steve should have been expected. He spent less than a year fighting in a war, forging friends under fire and not talking to many women before he spent seventy years in an ice block. And now, he’s back out and voraciously consuming all the world has for him to learn. He’s vulnerable in a different way. Seeing his friend’s gravestones, or watching the woman he fell for age and her mental health decline. It’s a trauma he cannot quite understand, but the more he thinks about it, the more it hurts. Once, Sam’s positive he heard Steve wishing he’d never been found. Sam's been there before.


	2. Chapter 2

It is a while after SHIELD falls to pieces when, being the only ones each other trusted, Sam and Steve share a meal at Sam’s place. Sam can cook to a slightly better degree than Steve, and he was getting sick of takeout. It’s nothing elaborate, a little lasagna, a loaf of Italian bread he brought from the store for garlic bread. Sam feels safe, for the first time in a long time. With Steve eagerly watching him work, with a visible smirk, he wasn’t sure of the last time he was so content.

Dinner is finally finished and Steve cuts the lasagna into squares, serving Sam a plate before he has a chance to insist otherwise. Defeated, he takes a seat on the other side of the kitchen island, Steve carefully cutting into the still-steaming square and taking a small forkful. Typically, he would have taken two squares, but Sam guesses that he’s eating small to avoid burning his mouth. For a while, it’s quiet, peaceful...even kinda domestic. Steve never seemed like the kinda man to talk and eat. It wasn’t polite. He was old-fashioned in that way.

Sam has a forkful in his mouth when Steve asks, nervously, “Do you ever feel like you’ll never be safe again?”

Sam swallows his food a little harder than intended. “More times than I can count...Especially now.” When you take down an American institution, it becomes a little hard to not look behind your shoulder.

“It feels like I’ve spent so long...hiding myself-it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be normal. You had a civilian life you could go back to, go under the radar and not be recognized. But every part of me, head to toe, is...public. Everyone knows Steve Rogers.”

Sam hums, understanding Steve’s point. “You’re at the Smithsonian, dude. If that isn't the pinnacle of “public”, I’m not sure what _is_.”

Steve chuckles. “They weren’t particularly amused I decided to reclaim my belongings.”

Sam laughs now, and he notices Steve’s smile and it’s warm and...kind of playful. If men could even be described that way.

“Do you ever think...you made the wrong choice being a guinea pig for the serum?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not really. I guess I didn’t expect to become a celebrity because of it. Another anonymous soldier in the fray of other super soldiers. When Erskine got killed and with him, the formula, I became the face of the war. Made me feel too open.”

“I’m vulnerable in my own way, I guess.” Sam takes another bite, shoving it in his mouth before Steve can question what he means.

“I think we both are. It’s why we get along, right?”

“Do you feel any safer with me?”

Steve thinks before responding. “I’ve trusted you with my life. We’re each other’s nets in our tightrope act.”

Sam’s heart races, and he smiles softly.

“Haven’t quite heard that before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a bit of a slow burn to it, but the explicit will come into play later.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it. I'm doing a lot of work making the progression natural.


	3. Chapter 3

After that night, it was as if Steve let down all of his guards with Sam. Steve shared stories about the nights he wakes up sobbing, how he hates not being around for Peggy. How he felt like he let the Commandos down, like he couldn’t protect anyone anymore. Feeling that he let down his friends and America as a whole. It is seventy years of issues and rejection and neglect and loneliness in a package that could model tomorrow, and should have nothing to complain about.

One night, Steve talked about how he was in love with his best friend.

“I’m sure a minor subset of people would be throwing a _parade_ to hear that.”

“I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Bucky. I was always afraid he’d never speak to me again. Worse, beat me up or insult me. It’s 1940, and you’re a half-pint kid that people think is already a little too feminine...it was enough that Bucky and I were pretty close. I was afraid one wrong look would give too many people pause. I never asked Bucky because he was just...a guy’s guy. Reminded me of Cary Grant. Cary Grant wouldn’t have put up with having some lovesick, overgrown _dog_ hanging around him.”

“...So _that’s_ why you wanted Bucky to remember you.”

Steve stammered. “N-not only that. But...it was a big part. If someone you loved was brainwashed and tried to kill you...wouldn’t you hope that the flickers of all the good times you had together would...snap them out of it? And you could hug each other and cry, because he’s the only other person in this world who understood what happened to you?”

Sam looks at Steve sadly, tears pooling in the other man’s eyes. All the hurt rushes up on his face, and he sighs heavily to hide a sniffle, wiping his face with both hands.

Shyly, Sam takes Steve’s hand, squeezing it. His hand is rough, running warmer than he’s ever felt.

They sit in silence for moments, looking at each other. It’s comfortable. He doesn’t deal with that often. Steve doesn’t bawl like his clients, but he looks downtrodden.

Sam tries to change the subject.

“Have you been with... _other_ men?”

Steve hesitated, sighing.

“I’ve had a few,” Sam interjects, “Don’t be shy.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t pick up on that.”

“Most people don’t. I’m kind of glad about that. Seen too many friends contemplate a bullet because they were born out of the closet, and could never get back in.”

Sam sighed heavily.

There was a silence, not uneasy, but reflective. Steve finally responded: “Four.”

“Before or after the serum?”

He chuckled. “Before...only one after. I guess people wanted the twink more than the hunk.”

Sam started to laugh. “You caught up on gay slang, I see.”

“Incognito mode. Last thing I need is someone leaking that I’ve been searching “Steve Rogers gay” or reading articles about the homoeroticism of Captain America as a whole.”

Sam shrugs. “The big picture you first see in the Smithsonian has your lips pretty red and full, man.”

“I kinda like that.”

Sam refuses to let “Me, too” slip from his mouth, chuckling instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I generally have this story completed (kinda) but am working through the last touches of it. A lot of my work, I rewrite later. I'm trying to avoid that here.
> 
> Thank you, again, for the positivity.


	4. Chapter 4

After that, it was hard for Sam to not think of Steve while he laid in bed at night. Or went for a run. Or took a shower, made bacon in the morning, or walked past the Italian restaurant down the block. Sam wanted Steve’s arms around him, falling asleep intertwined together. To nuzzle his neck and inhale his scent, not just to absorb all he could in passing. To hear his voice call out for him, not for backup but the _urgency_ of his orgasm. To say more than “Great work” to him, to maybe say "You're beautiful" instead. He’d imagine what his body looked like soaking wet, how his skin tasted, how if Sam came home hurt Steve would wash him and dress his wounds, before carrying him to bed and staying with him until he could fall asleep safely.

It was all really mushy and silly, and Sam felt a little ashamed of the way he was thinking. Men who like men can be just friends with other men, he repeated. But if he had to be friends with everyone else just to have Steve, then he would be fine with that.

And it felt ridiculous, but he could swear Steve felt the same way. Of course, still being the dating-nervous kid from Brooklyn, Steve never said anything about it. Steve sometimes looked a little too long at Sam’s chest, or his ass, which he didn’t mind. Sam would sometimes take too many looks at Steve’s, so he considered it even. Steve would play it off as something else when he was caught. Sam would just deny it. They touched more often, brushing hands against shoulders or rubbing a sore spot Sam couldn’t quite get. It felt like their laughs were more earnest, their hugs were two armed and full and warm and more than friendly. They lingered, briefly, before pulling away, sometimes the last thing on each other’s bodies were their fingers.

But Steve said nothing. A week went by. Was he worried he would reject him? Did he not see the reverence in his eyes when they spoke about their lives? Did he not remember how he stumbled upon Sam’s small (but always growing) collection of Cap t-shirts? Was Steve worried he was just looking at him as his childhood hero, and not as a person but some weird fetish? It was never that to him. Even when he was young, Steve Rogers was gonna be Sam Wilson’s best friend. He was honest, kind, and loyal. Everything he hoped he could be when he signed up for the Armed Forces from the start.

Sam resolved to make the first move, and decided to best way to do that was to ask Steve to come over again.

“Sure. It’s not like I haven’t been to your place before.”

Sam sighed heavily, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. Of course Steve was going to think it was platonic if he asked again. If nothing happened the first time, then nothing would...to him, at least.

“Yeah, I know. This time I mean _come over_.”

Steve quirked his eyebrows, pausing.

“What do you mean by that, then?”

“I...it’s a _date_. I’m asking you _out_...you aren’t that oblivious. Come over to my place for dinner and...whatever. Something. Stay the night. Let me make you breakfast again...”

Sam chuckled.

“...or maybe you can. I don’t care. I just can’t make it any simpler than that...please...”

Sam sighed heavily. He felt like he had fallen mid-run, and was busy staring at the sky before he got back on his feet. All of his feelings, his anxieties about this moment had just hit him. What was he **doing**? Steve had looked away, and Sam’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. Did he fuck up? He ran through all the things Steve was gonna spit out. “Just because I like men doesn’t mean I want to date you” or “It’s not like that, we’re partners”. Every expletive ran through his head as his face ran hot. He couldn’t read Steve’s facial expressions well, and it worried him. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, brushing his chin. He was thinking it over. Super-soldiers don't think things over, Sam thinks.

But, within seconds, Steve cleared the short distance between them, taking Sam’s chin in his fingers. Steve kissed Sam on the lips, softly, but warmly, and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist. Sam inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him: Pine, mint, pomade, and a bit of sweat. Steve’s lips were soft, softer than he ever thought they could be, and Sam pressed their bodies closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy about all the good feedback! This is becoming more and more my baby as time goes on.
> 
> The next part IS actually the sex scene, though I'm a bit hesitant to put that up for numerous reasons (main one: I'm always worried about my sex scenes).
> 
> Please share wildly, if you wish. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE BE SMUT. finally. thank you, again, for all the support. This has been my most popular fic so far! -blush-.

“I want you so bad”, Sam purred. “Thinkin’ about you all week.”

He’s sure he’s never been harder in his life. Steve pinned him against the wall, putting one leg between his two. Steve’s bulge meets his, Sam grinds against him hard because he wants all of this so bad. Steve kissed him again, passionate as Sam responded by running a hand into his perfectly coiffed hair.

“Really? All week?” Steve asked in earnest, with a devilish grin. “I want to fuck you so hard the _bed breaks_ , and cover you with my cum”, he whispered as he moved to Sam’s neck, kissing and nipping at his skin.

 “God _damn_ ”, Sam grunted. He contemplates that he very well could do that. He wouldn’t walk straight for a week, nor get any of that out of the sheets. It would be beyond worth it.

 Steve sucked on the nape of his neck, sliding a hand up his sweatshirt to tease Sam’s nipples, leaving Sam gasping. Steve pulled off Sam’s shirt and bent down to take his right nipple into his mouth, licking as Sam let his head fall back to bump the wall. A hot hand slid down his pants and met Sam’s erection, and he moans high, surprised he could make that noise. Steve’s fingers slip into Sam’s mouth, and he sucks eagerly.

Steve’s hands feel gigantic as one enveloped his cock. Slowly, he strokes, and his blue eyes penetrate Sam’s brown ones. Sam realized how open and wanton he is in this moment. Steve’s fingers leave Sam’s mouth and they kiss again, mashing lips together frantically. He didn’t expect Steve to be so forward. Or sexy.

 “Can we take this to the bed?”, Sam whispered. Steve nodded, kissing him again and they both stumble their way back toward Sam’s bed. Steve broke the kiss to unbutton his plaid shirt, in a way that makes Sam stop and stare at his hands, watch Steve’s eyes get heavier with lust. Steve smiles as he undresses, as if he’s putting on a show for him. He pulled off his shirt and slipped his tanktop over his head, finally showing off that amazing body he’s got. Sam took off his shirt as Steve reached for the waistband of Sam’s sweatpants, pulling off his boxers along with them. Sam wriggles up further on the bed, waiting for Steve’s next move.

“You’re stunning. Handsome. Hot. Everything”, Steve added, looking over Sam’s body with admiration and awe.

 Sam chuckled in response. “You’re nothing to sleep on, either.”

Steve unbuckled his belt, unzipping his pants and pulled them down so quickly Sam doesn't even get a good read on what he was wearing under them. But he gets an eyeful of Steve’s cock, thick and a bit wet with pre-cum, and decides he didn't care that much. Steve slowly gets on top of him, fits himself between his legs, and takes Sam’s cock back in his hands.

“Is it bad I’ve been daydreaming about you?” Steve moans. “I always wondered what you looked like under those sweats...”

 “You get a first-hand look now.”

 Steve kisses him again, and while Sam closes his eyes and is distracted, Steve grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer and pours just a bit on his fingers. Sam doesn’t think too much on how he knew where the lube was, since this was his house. He forgets all about it as one lubricated finger slid into him slowly. Sam moans into Steve's mouth, takes a hand to run through his hair.

“You’re gonna tease me now?”

Steve grins. “Better question: when haven’t I?”

Steve sets his mouth back on Sam’s nipple as his other hand pistons Sam’s cock. Sam whimpered quietly, a little too lost in the feeling of all of this to even respond properly. Steve looked up at him with raised brows, then let another finger slip into him. Everything felt smooth but assertive, each ministration assured. Sam’s a bit ashamed he’s quivering, sheets clamped in his fists. He’s so lost in the moment that he just barely notices Steve’s mouth take the full length of him. Steve sucks gently, stroking his tongue on the underside of his erection. Sam thrusted slightly into his mouth, and put his hand on the back of his head.

“ _Fuck_.”

Steve chuckled.

He fingered him in near rhythm with his mouth, and Sam had to focus hard to not cum down Steve’s throat, not get off on the idea that Captain America might _swallow_. Sam fisted Steve’s hair, Steve took it as an invitation to suck harder. Another finger slipped in, and Sam’s definitely not sure he can hold back.

“Fuck me, Steve, _please_.”

“Been waiting for you to say that.”

Steve got back on top, and gently replaced his fingers with his cock. Sam can’t remember the last time he had anyone inside of him. Years now, he’s almost sure. He’s glad he prepped earlier for this moment, even though it had a 50/50 chance of happening. No embarrassing anal stories with an American legend. He smiled, moaning as Steve penetrated him completely, and instinctively takes his own cock in hand to slowly stroke. Steve, for a change, is shaky and biting his lip, a sight that makes Sam even more dizzy. Both of them are quivering, hard, sweaty messes and it feel so right to him. Steve gathered himself back together to thrust slowly, not pulling out too far to start.

“Tell me what you want.”

“A little faster...”

Steve obliged, gathering a normal rhythm as he takes hold of Sam’s legs, stroking his calfs. 

“Was it what you dreamed of?”

“Better than anything I could ever come up with.”

Steve brought up his pace, fast but gentle somehow, taking his time to almost pull completely out of him before thrusting back in, wrapping Sam’s legs around his hips, his fingers digging into his thighs with just enough pain to add to the pleasure. Steve leaned over and kissed Sam again, tongues slithering together and lips frantic. Sam could taste a bit of himself on the other man’s mouth, and knowing that was **more** than enough to fuel fantasies for a lifetime. Steve fucks him hard now, reckless and grunting and Sam wants all of this, all of him, to keep happening.

“I’m gonna cum”, Steve whispered with a shudder. “You feel fantastic”, he added breathlessly.

Sam kept stroking his cock, pulled Steve in deep as he can with his legs, and groaned “Nothing’s stopping you”.

“I-”, Steve quivered, “I don’t want to do it inside of you.”

Sam smiled, let him go, and immediately missed Steve’s hard dick in him. The sensation is replaced as Steve’s hands press both their cocks together to stroke, testicles rubbing together to add a new pleasure to the mix. Sam sat up on his elbows to watch, but quickly found himself at his brink, with Steve’s mouth meeting his again. It is a messy frenzy of lips and tongues for a moment until Sam finally cums, shaking harder than he ever has.

“staywithmestaywithmestaywithme”, Steve whimpered, finally coming and combining their ejaculate in a mess on his hands. His chest heaves, he hisses and moans, thighs tensing and body shaking. His load is twice as large as Sam’s, splattering against Sam’s chest and stomach. Watching this sight has Sam want to go all over again, Steve panting and sticky with sweat, his beautiful mouth agape.

_________

After the most base clean up, Sam and Steve nuzzle into each other in his intact bed. In the back of his head, Sam’s a little saddened by the fact he didn’t have that story to tell in the future.

“How do you feel?”

“Amazing”, Sam responds, nuzzled into Steve’s shoulder. “Best sex I’ve _ever_ had.”

He wasn’t going to lie. It was the best ever. It was the sex he had wanted for years, and decades if he counted all his teenage jerk-off fantasies about the man he had next to him. Steve chuckled softly, kissing Sam softly on the lips.

“I mean...about this...all of it.”

“The exact same.” Sam looked at him, confused. “Why? I hope you don’t see me as some fanboy groupie…?”

Steve laughed.

“I mean” , Steve clarified, “...do you trust me? Like this? Both of us together romantically and sexually.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Steve hesitated to respond.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just...expecting the worst.”

Sam kissed Steve gently, stroking his shoulder.

“Right now, I wanna think about what you’re gonna make for dinner tonight. I feel safe with you. I trust you. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

They kissed again, with a bit more passion, and Sam brought Steve’s head to his chest.

“You’re my net”, Steve whispered.

Sam smiled. “You’re mine, too. You know that, don’t you?”

Steve simply nuzzled into Sam in response. That was as good as a yes.


End file.
